Page 29

The woman snickered and her heels clicked when she rose to join Jordan. "Don't tease them," I heard her say quietly.

Clem's lips pursed and her gaze flickered to mine.

"You okay?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder when the others exited earshot.

She said nothing for a moment, and her brow crinkled. I wasn't sure if she was angry, freaked out, or confused. Angry seemed most likely and I leaned back in my chair, expecting a lashing.

"What's…an awkward melon?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers tightened on the spine of her book, and her knuckles turned a shade of white.

"It's Jordan being silly. There's no such thing as an awkward melon. She makes up things trying to be cute," I said, gently as the notion seemed to distress her.

"Oh." She looked behind me to where Jordan and the other woman were then back to me. "A melon isn't cute."

"Only if they're perfectly round and smooth. Those can be cute. Like a tiny watermelon." I babbled. Like a fool. About cute melons. For fuck's sake.

"Perhaps a honeydew is cuter though." She seemed to ponder the notion. "It's very smooth."

"It is. Yes." A smile parted my lips suddenly, and I found myself enjoying the little exchange.

"I reckon that's the cutest," she said, then picked up her book again. She began to read for a fleeting second then set it down again. "Have you read Voltaire?" she asked, as if never losing a beat.

"Only in high school. I don't remember any of it though. It was way over my head, and I didn't stay in high school long," I said, then ran my fingers through my dripping hair.

"Why not?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"It just wasn't for me." I glanced at the book again then back to her. "So…French?"

She nodded. "Sometimes I like reading in different languages."

"What other languages do you read?"

"Besides French…Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and Romanian."

"Romanian?" My eyes widened at the notion.

"It's one of the easier to learn." She shook her head. "If you have a good foundation, the romance languages come naturally."

"I know a bit of Spanish…"

"Then you have foundation." She nodded once.

"What's your first language, if you don't mind me asking?"

"English and Romanian," she said. "My mother was a linguist."

"From the states?"

She shook her head, and I noted again her fingers tightened on the book. "My mother was from Romania, but I was born here."

"Wow. I've never travelled or anything. I probably couldn't even tell you where Romania was on a map."

"In Europe," she stated the fact casually, without much follow up.

"Have you been there?"

Again, a light smile brightened her face. "I've been to many places. Yes."

Jordan returned a few minutes later and took the towel from Clem's head. Her hair tumbled down her back and over the chair, dangling half a meter above the floor. Mine barely touched my mid-back, even while wet.